Second Contact
by Firebirdie
Summary: Loyalty's a funny thing when you're nothing but a means to your master's ends. Jaesa has more in common with the Sith hunting her than either of them can ignore.


**A/N:** Not really an AU, but doesn't quite follow SW Chapter 1's last few missions to the letter. Assumes a delay between the attempted meeting on Jaesa's ship, and the actual Chapter 1 endgame. I might expand this to include a slightly altered version of the Hutta confrontation, but for now, enjoy.

 **Second Contact**

 **o.O.o**

He shouldn't be doing this. He really, really shouldn't. But Evren checks that his quarters are secure one last time, takes a steadying breath, and makes the call.

 **o.O.o**

Under normal circumstances, Jaesa would have disposed of the holocommunicator once she finished recording her message to the Sith. But, well, she was a bit distracted at the time—what with her parents spirited away to Dromund Kaas, and Master Karr berating her for allowing her attachment to them to compromise her judgement. And for implying that he was using her as a pawn.

So she didn't get around to destroying the communicator. It sat, ignored, on her bedside table where she'd left it after arriving on Hutta. She forgot about it, to be quite honest.

Then, in the hazy hours of another stinking swampy night, it begins to chirp.

Jaesa sits bolt upright in bed, startled, and stares blankly at the device for a moment. She used it _once_ ; that was the point of buying it new. Only one person in the galaxy could possibly have its codes.

She can't not answer. Fatal curiosity, perhaps, but she must know what this is about. She gets out of bed, rakes her hair into some semblance of order with her fingers, rubs the sleep from her eyes, and activates the communicator.

The blue-tinged figure that materializes over it is unmistakably Sith. Strange, to put a face to the unstoppable force that has hunted her for so long. And yet he looks as nervous as she feels. "Jaesa Willsaam?" he says, voice a cool baritone.

"What do you want?" she demands.

"You said we could, er, talk," he says haltingly. "If—if that offer still stands, I would like to try once more. Without lackeys or interference."

"And why should I trust you?"

He raises an eyebrow, apparently on firmer ground here. "I am not the one who turned a good-faith meeting into a trap by sending a pair of exceedingly _annoying_ Jedi in my place."

Jaesa scowls at him. The trap wasn't her idea; Master Karr insisted she remain behind when he found out about her plans. He said it was too dangerous for her to come face to face with the man hunting her. But she will not give this Sith anything to drive a wedge between her and her master, even if she does wish things had gone differently. And perhaps Master Karr was right to be so cautious. "Zylixx is fine, by the way," she says. "Whatever you did to him, he's fully recovered."

The Sith snorts inelegantly. "Give him my regards." Then he sobers. "I'm not asking to meet in person. That will only end in disaster. But—you were right. Our masters are using us to further their vendetta, and far too many people have been hurt."

"Most of them," Jaesa says, "by your hand."

He exhales, bowing his head. "Yes."

She wishes she could read him. They're too far apart for her ability to be of any use, though, and she has to rely on mundane means of gauging his sincerity. Deliberate on his part? Maybe, maybe not. Either way, she should probably play along for the time being. "All right, let's talk, then."

"Thank you," he says, with feeling.

". . . Who are you?"

"Oh—apologies. My name is Evren Straik. Apprenticed to Darth Baras, obviously."

Jaesa comes close to giving her own name, catches herself. He already knows who she is. Otherwise they wouldn't be having this conversation. "What exactly do you want out of this?"

"An end. Whether Karr or Baras survives to gloat over their victory doesn't matter, as long as this ends with you and I alive. What of your own goals?"

Jaesa gives him a long, measuring look. "I'd prefer to resolve this without bloodshed, but if it comes down to a choice between your master and mine, I will not allow you to harm Master Karr. Will that be a problem?"

Straik smiles thinly. "Not at all."

"Are all Sith so loyal?"

"Hardly. Some of us are actually conniving backstabbers."

Interesting. Jaesa was expecting a more straightforward defensive reaction, not to have her sarcasm met in kind, or to have her doubts acknowledged if not addressed. Speaking of which: "You're not exactly inspiring confidence . . ."

"And yet you're still talking to me." He gestures to indicate their linked communicators. "You answered when I called, just as I did when you contacted my ship. We both want the same result, and we're both willing to go behind our masters' backs to achieve it."

"Are we." She tries not to let her tension creep into her voice or expression. _Your disobedience nearly killed two loyal Jedi, Jaesa,_ Master Karr scolded her, when they heard what happened. _Imagine what might have happened if you had been on that ship instead of Ulldin and Zylixx._

. . . Ulldin and Zylixx, who are both alive. Shaken, yes, but alive, despite admitting that they attacked Straik first.

"Your master arranged the trap on your ship, not you," Straik is saying, "and you initially contacted me without his knowledge—Zylixx was remarkably, ah, _chatty_ , for someone who didn't seem to care overmuch for negotiation."

"He always has been," Jaesa mutters. She sighs, and bows her head for a moment, collecting her thoughts. "You may be right about me, but I still have no reason to believe this isn't all part of some drawn-out mind game."

"Aside from the trail of live bodies?" he offers.

She gives him a flat look.

Straik coughs. "Right. No points for not murdering everyone." He presses his lips together for a moment, then says, "Your ability to sense people's intentions—would that help?"

"Would it help me trust you? Maybe. Not without a face-to-face meeting, though."

"Ah. That would have made things a bit easier . . ."

"You _want_ me to read you?"

"Not particularly," he says with a grimace. "But it's the only way I can think of to convince you that I'm even less interested in a double-cross than I am in being telepathically dissected."

"It's not painful, or invasive. I only observe." What's truly alarming about this entire situation is that she _wants_ to believe him. Not because she hopes for the opportunity to redeem him, but because she wants to be proven right.

No—she wants to prove Master Karr _wrong_. Prove that he should have listened to her. Trusted her. She has trusted him with everything—her training, her powers, her very _life_ —and over and over, he has repaid that trust by dismissing and belittling her, all the while using her. It was why she contacted the Sith in the first place.

"Oh, good," Straik says airily. "I'll forego the anticipatory dread, then."

"I thought the dark side thrives on fear."

He blinks, then grins. "Was that a joke? Did you just _joke_ about—since when are Jedi allowed to joke about the dark side?"

Jaesa clears her throat, raising a hand to her mouth to cover a smile. Somehow, she can't summon up much guilt. "We're expected to maintain a—a certain level of dignity, as befitting representatives of the Order. But I'm no longer acting as a representative for anything but myself."

Straik's amusement fades. "That makes two of us."

She wishes she didn't have to distance herself from the Order. She wishes she could trust her own Master. She wishes he trusted _her_.

But most of all she wishes she _could_ see this Sith's true nature across the lightyears, if only to be certain that her instincts, unlike nearly everyone and everything else in her life, have not deceived her.

 **o.O.o**


End file.
